


Entirely Yours

by DKNC



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 10:31:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1547459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DKNC/pseuds/DKNC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a birthday present for my good friend, Cloudsinmycoffee9. When asked what she wanted in her birthday fic, she replied with Ned/Cat sexytimes, Westeros setting, Jealous!Ned, and BABY GOATS!</p><p>So, yeah. This story includes all of that. Blame her. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entirely Yours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cloudsinmycoffee9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudsinmycoffee9/gifts).



“Gods forgive me, Ned, but I hate this place! I simply want to be home.”

Ned Stark could not suppress the small laugh even though he knew it would irritate her. In truth, he liked King’s Landing even less than his beautiful wife did, and he thought it likely that everyone in the capital was aware of his feelings. Catelyn, however, gave nothing but radiant smiles and gentle courtesies during the long days here, and Ned had heard more than one person remark upon how she shone in the South. She was wasted in the frozen North, these people lamented.

While it infuriated him to think that people pitied his lady wife her life with him in Winterfell, she did shine--whether in the South or the North--and he was immensely proud of her. He also took secret joy in being the only one who knew how she truly felt about the politics and social maneuvering at court. These people could look at his Cat and admire her beauty and poise, but not one of them would ever truly know her. That privilege was his.

She did frown at his laugh, and he went to her, smoothing her hair against the sides of her face with his hands. “Patience, my love. We shall likely be able to depart within a fortnight.”

“We have already been here a fortnight!” she exclaimed. Then she sighed and put her own hand to his bearded cheek in a long familiar gesture. “I am sorry, my love. I am only overtired and missing home. And Bran was rather stubborn about going down to sleep this night.”

“You think he will sleep now, though?” Ned asked her, mildly concerned. 

When the invitation to a royal tournament (which was actually a command, at least as far as Ned himself was concerned) had arrived at Winterfell, Catelyn had insisted that she and the children would come as well, even though Bran was not quite two years old. Most of the lords and ladies and assorted knights gathered in King’s Landing for this celebration of the king’s thirtieth nameday had left any small children at home, so when he and Catelyn had arrived with all four of theirs in tow, ranging in age from less than two to nine, they had been looked at rather askance by many.

The journey to King’s Landing from Winterfell was a terribly long one for young children, but the weather had been good, thank the gods. Robb had enjoyed the entire experience as a grand adventure, only lamenting too frequently for Catelyn’s taste that Jon had not accompanied them. Sansa, at six, simply didn’t seem to have it in her to complain about anything. Catelyn had somehow managed to keep the ever curious and terrifyingly fearless almost four year old Arya from wandering away or injuring herself even while constantly attending to the needs of little Bran. In truth, it had been one of the more pleasant travels Ned could recall taking simply because he had Catelyn and the children with him, and he thanked the gods for her stubborn refusal to remain at home or to leave the little ones behind. Only the thought of Jon, left behind at Winterfell for a good three moons without them at least, caused him any sorrow, but he could hardly present a bastard at court. And there were other reasons, reasons he never allowed himself to think on, which would cause him to ever keep the boy as far as possible from King’s Landing.

“He’ll sleep,” Catelyn assured him now about Bran. Her cheeks colored slightly as she added, “And the maid knows well enough where to find me if he wakes.”

“Mmm,” Ned said, moving his hands down over her and encircling her in his arms to draw her against him. “I do not wish you to be found by anyone just at present, my lady.”

She laughed, but she put her own arms around his neck and he silenced her laughter with a kiss. 

Some time later, as they lay tangled together in the comfortable bed Robert had provided for him, Ned shook his head at his friend’s insistence that the lords and ladies be given separate bedchambers so that the lords could avail themselves of whatever entertainment they desired during their stay in the Red Keep. While he’d first been offended at the notion, once he’d realized that all the children were to be put in cots in Catelyn’s chamber, he’d become very grateful to have been given his own room. He had made very good use of the privacy every night since their arrival by bedding his beautiful wife here, something that had been extremely difficult to accomplish while on the road with four children. Thank the gods, her own room was close by or he’d never have gotten her to leave the children at night, even with the maid in the room with them.

“Lysa says Robert intends to keep you and Jon beside him all day tomorrow,” Catelyn said sleepily against his chest.

“So he says,” Ned sighed heavily. “I can make excuses if you . . .”

“No,” she said, raising herself up to look at him. “He is the king, Ned, and you won’t insult him.” She smiled. “Besides, you enjoy spending time with Robert. I don’t begrudge you that.”

He smiled back at her. “I have missed him. You know I had not seen him since the Greyjoy Rebellion. While I have no love of King’s Landing or any of the spectacles we’ve attended and still must attend, I confess it is good to see the man, rogue though he may be.” She laughed. “And it is good to see your sister and her boy, is it not?”

“Yes,” Catelyn said very slowly. “I worry for little Robert, though, Ned. He is so small.”

“He is scarcely a year old, Cat.”

“I know, but you haven’t seen him as closely as I have. Lysa keeps him so closed off away from everyone.” She sighed. “He’s far tinier than any of ours were at that age. And while he takes the teat well enough, he eats almost nothing. She’s afraid of his choking. Our children ate all manner of foods by his age as well as taking from the teat.” She shook her head sadly. “She’s so fearful for him in all ways, Ned, that I fear she holds him too closely. That she almost isn’t allowing him to grow well.”

“She did have the devil’s own time having a child, Cat. All those miscarriages . . .” He held his wife closely as he thought of all the women and babes lost in the act of bringing children into the world, thankful that Catelyn and their four babes had all come through it alive and well. He could not imagine losing any of them.

“Yes, and I understand her protectiveness. I do. I simply worry. Has Jon said anything about it?”

Now it was Ned’s turn to sigh. “I fear Jon says very little about his wife and son, my love. He speaks well of your sister, always showing her respect. It is simply that his conversation tends to run more toward Robert and the realm. He is not a man to easily speak of personal matters.”

Catelyn laughed a little then. “No wonder the two of you get on so well,” she teased him.

He smiled. “Will you and the children spend the morrow with Lysa and little Robert then?” he asked her.

“Mayhap.” She sighed. “The weather looks to be fair, and Ser Tomar has volunteered to escort all of us outside if we like. I’m afraid Lysa will refuse to take Robert out, and I don’t know if I can keep our four contained within walls another day.”

“Ser Tomar . . .” Ned said darkly.

“You met him! He’s from the Vale. Lysa’s known him for some time. He’s a friend of Petyr’s. I told you Petyr was here not long ago, but he’s back in Gulltown now, doing whatever it is he does for Jon Arryn there. Lysa says he’s done very well for himself.”

Ned grunted. He had never found it in his heart to think very well of Petyr Baelish after the foolish man had actually presumed to duel his brother Brandon over Catelyn’s hand. It had been terribly disrespectful of Brandon, and truthfully, he didn’t like the idea of anyone attempting any sort of claim on his wife--past or present. _Not even Brandon,_ he thought to himself ruefully. As for Ser Tomar . . .

“I don’t like the way he looks at you,” he muttered.

“Ned!” she admonished him, slapping at his chest playfully. “You don’t like any man looking at me, ever. And Ser Tomar has been nothing but courteous. You know I would not allow him to be otherwise.”

Ned sighed. “I do not doubt you, my lady. I do not have quite so much confidence in most men, however. Not where you are concerned.” He grinned then, and pulled her atop him. “I know how little control I have of myself in your presence. How can I possibly trust that other men would have more?” He continued smiling at her as he ran his hands over the soft skin of her back and hips. “You are so beautiful, Cat,” he whispered.

“To you,” she whispered against his ear. “And I am yours.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Catelyn Stark rose very early from her husband’s bed, kissing his sleeping face gently before dressing to leave. In Winterfell, he nearly always rose before her, but here in King’s Landing, she woke while it was still dark, her body seeming to know she needed to return to the room where her children slept before they missed her.

On this morning, however, her firstborn launched himself at her as soon as she entered the room. “Are we going out of the Red Keep today, Mother? With Ser Tomar? He said he would take us, remember? Are we going?”

Catelyn laughed as she pried his hands from around her waist. “Yes, Robb. I promised we should go if the weather stayed fair, and it appears it will. But it is still dark, sweetling! And your brother and sisters still sleep. Now hush before you wake them.”

“Where were you? I wanted to come find you, but she said I couldn’t.” The little boy pouted and pointed an accusatory finger at the maidservant who sat quietly in one corner of the room.

“She was quite right,” Catelyn told him firmly. “This is not Winterfell, and you have no cause to wander the corridors alone. I was with your father.”

“Oh,” Robb said, brightening. “Did you go to sleep in his bed with him? I think it was mean of King Robert to make him sleep in a room all by himself. I wouldn’t like it. I’ve got baby Bran and usually Jon in my room at Winterfell, and the girls are always together, and Father always sleeps in your room. I’m glad you kept him company. I’m sure he slept better.”

Catelyn felt her cheeks color slightly as she watched the maid carefully avoid making any eye contact with her. “Yes, Robb. I . . .kept him company. And he slept very well.” She ruffled her little boy’s hair. “As you get older, you may want your own room, you know, and you certainly may have one, but Bran can stay with you as long as you like.” She made no mention of the bastard, but Robb was old enough to realize that she wouldn’t. She didn’t chastise him for his mention of the boy, either. She simply pretended not to hear it as had become her habit over the years. She couldn’t very well prevent her son from caring for the boy when Ned insisted on raising them as brothers. She would do all she could to make him understand what bastardy meant and protect himself from any threat the boy and his progeny might pose, but that would wait until he was older.

She pushed the thought of Ned’s bastard from her mind and lay down on her bed, pulling Robb in to snuggle against her. If she could coax another hour of sleep from the child before the others rose, he would be far more pleasant through the day, and she didn’t want him cranky and tired if they went on an excursion.

Robb did in fact fall back to sleep for nearly two hours, and by the time Catelyn had all the children up and dressed for the day, a messenger informed her that Ned had already left the Red Keep, having gone riding somewhere with the King and the Hand. After breaking their fast, she led the children to the Tower of the Hand where they found Ser Tomar sitting with Lysa in her receiving room. Little Robert slept in a cradle at her feet.

“He has a cough,” Lysa said by way of greeting, looking down at her son. “Tomar says it’s a beautiful day, but I cannot risk it.” She reached down to touch the thin wisps of hair on her baby’s head. “He is far too precious to subject him to the poisonous airs in King’s Landing all for the sake of seeing . . .”

“Ah, ah, ah,” interrupted Ser Tomar. “I told you that was a surprise for the children, my lady.”

Lysa looked up at the knight in irritation, but nodded. “So you did. Not a very exciting surprise, I should think.” She looked up at Catelyn then. “You do what you wish, Cat, but Robert and I are staying in today. If his cough is better on the morrow, then perhaps . . .”

“I don’t hear baby cough,” Arya stated loudly, and Catelyn saw to her dismay that her younger daughter had bent over the cradle and had her face nearly against her cousin’s.

“Get away from him!” Lysa nearly shrieked, and Arya jumped backward, looking up at her aunt in terror. “Of course, he isn’t coughing now, you foolish child,” Lysa hissed much more quietly. “He’s asleep. And if you wake him and he starts another coughing fit, I shall have you confined in your room without meals today.”

“No! I wanna go outside.”

Arya was nearly shaking then, and Catelyn could easily see that it was equal parts fear and anger. “Arya,” she said, “Come to me.”

Thankfully, the little girl obeyed, although she still glared at Lysa, and Catelyn picked her up. “We are all going outside, sweetling.” Turning to her firstborn, she found him staring at Lysa with his mouth open. “Robb,” she said, setting Arya down beside him and giving him her hand. “Take your sisters out in the corridor, and wait for me. I will be right there, and we will go outside.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Arya looked glum, but didn’t pull her hand from her brother’s, and Sansa, bless her, walked over to Robb without being told and took his other hand. As her three older children exited the room, Catelyn picked up Bran and faced her sister.

“You will never shout at or threaten to punish one of my children again, Lysa,” she said evenly.

“But you saw what she . . .”

“I did,” Catelyn interrupted. “She is not quite four years old. She was looking at her cousin because you said he was ill, and she was concerned. She was too close, and she was too loud, and I would have corrected her myself had you not attempted to terrify her to death.”

The petulant look Lysa gave her then actually reminded Catelyn of a face Sansa or Arya might make when they were particularly unhappy about something, and she took a deep breath. “I am sorry Robert is ill because I had looked forward to spending today with you, but perhaps as you said . . .on the morrow.” She made herself smile at her sister. “And I am sorry about Arya’s behavior. I promise I will keep her in check, but you must let me do it, Lysa. I am sure you understand that as you are a mother yourself.”

Lysa’s frown softened then, and she looked for a moment almost like the little girl who had followed Catelyn around everywhere at Riverrun. “If they can all be quiet, you can come back this evening and tell me of your day,” she offered. “I’d like that.”

“I would, too,” Catelyn said.

As she turned to leave, her sister’s voice called after her. “But bathe them first! I know where he’s taking you and it’s filthy! I can’t have Robert exposed to that.”

Sighing, Catelyn went into the corridor and waited for Ser Tomar to take his leave of her sister.

“You look very beautiful today, my lady,” Ser Tomar said a short time later as they walked out the gate of the Red Keep into the city. He had volunteered to carry Bran so that she could take Sansa and Arya each by the hand. This left only Robb free to run ahead and dart about, but he hadn’t strayed far enough away for her to chastise him yet.

“Thank you, Ser,” she replied courteously. He was a fairly tall man, taller than Ned, she thought, but with a frame slender to the point of looking almost unhealthy. He did have an attractive face, clean shaven with strong features, eyes a much darker blue than hers, and sandy brown hair lighter than Ned’s or Arya’s, which fell just to his shoulders.

“Of course, you could be nothing but beautiful, Lady Catelyn,” he said then, and Catelyn looked at him in some puzzlement. He had never spoken to her quite like this before, but then they had always been in Lysa’s presence, and observant people were able to discern quickly that Lysa became very unhappy when Catelyn was paid too many compliments in front of her.

“I have listened to Petyr speak of your beauty on more than one occasion,” the Vale man continued, “but even in his cups, when he waxed the most poetic about his ‘darling Cat’, I don’t believe he did you justice.”

At the sound of her nickname on his lips, Catelyn stopped walking. “Ser Tomar,” she said kindly, but firmly. “I am the Lady of Winterfell, and my formal title is Lady Stark. I would be far more comfortable if you addressed me as such while you escort us today.”

He smiled then, and there was something about the smile that made her slightly uncomfortable. “But of course, my lady,” he said, bowing slightly even while holding her toddler in one arm. “I would never do anything to cause you any disrespect . . .or repeat anything that should never be repeated.”

She stared at him uncomprehendingly. He made no sense whatsoever. Her confusion obviously showed on her face because he cocked one brow slightly. “Petyr spoke of you . . .quite a lot . . .Lady Stark.” He emphasized her title in a way that was not quite discourteous, but not quite right, and Catelyn wondered what on earth had gotten into the man.

It had to be that stupid duel, she decided, cursing Petyr for the foolish boy he’d been then and the foolish man he must still be to speak about an episode which reflected poorly on no one but himself.

“Where are we going, Ser Tomar?” Sansa piped up then in her sweet little voice.

“Why, I am taking you to one the encampments of the Vale men, my lady,” Tomar replied with such genuine warmth that Catelyn wondered if she’d imagined the odd tone of his voice before.

“What’s there?” Robb asked, rushing up to be included in the conversation. “Your warhorse? You are riding in the joust, aren’t you?”

“I am riding, yes, young lord. But I am not taking you to the stables. The Vale is a lovely, fertile place, and we have much to offer King Robert in honor of his birthday.”

“Food?” Robb asked. “You’re taking us to see wheat or barley or something?” He didn’t look impressed at the prospect, but Catelyn was impressed at his grasp of what the Vale might provide in terms of bounty for the king and thought to tell Ned later that their son apparently paid attention to his lessons with Maester Luwin for all he wished constantly to escape from them.

“No,” Tomar laughed. “Although you’re a bright lad, my lord, for recognizing that we have plenty and certainly did bring a good amount.” He winked at Robb. “But while I love eating bread or porridge, I admit I’m not terribly excited at the prospect of looking at grain. I’ve got something I think you’ll like better.”

They had been walking for some way, and Arya’s little steps had just begun to slow a bit when they reached an area near the outer wall of the city where Catelyn could see a number of tents and enclosures set up. She recognized the unmistakable odor of manure coming from the area and wondered what animal the knight had brought her children to see. 

As they neared one of the enclosures, the sounds emanating from it made Catelyn smile as she recognized the bleating. 

“Goats!” Robb shouted, and ran ahead.

Catelyn smiled at the man beside her in some amusement. “You do realize we have goats in the North, don’t you, Ser? I confess there aren’t a great number in Winterfell itself, but my children have . . .”

“Eight of the nannies have had kids in the past three days, Lady Stark,” Ser Tomar said, smiling back at her.

“Kids?” Sansa asked.

“Baby goats,” Catelyn explained.

“Babies!” Sansa pulled her hand from her mother’s and ran off after her brother. Arya, too, then pulled her hand free. Catelyn wasn’t certain she understood what she was running to look at, but she wasn’t going to be left out.

“Baby animals,” she said, shaking her head. “We won’t be able to pry Sansa away.”

“Hold up!” Ser Tomar called after the children. “Let me get some of them away from their mothers. The nannies may not take kindly to their children being attacked, and you lot will find yourselves in a world of hurt.”

He handed Bran to Catelyn and went to corral the children in one spot. He then brought out a fuzzy baby goat for each of them to hold and pet. Even Robb was impressed. All three of the children oohed and ahed and fussed over them, and Bran began to fuss to get down. Catelyn set him on the ground, and Ser Tomar brought another little wobbly legged, furry baby to him. Catelyn sat beside him to be certain he didn’t pull the poor thing's ears or tail, and he babbled happily to it.

When at last it was time to go, Sansa looked up at Catelyn with her blue eyes wide. “Can I keep her?”

“Well, I believe these are meant for King Robert’s nameday,” she said.

“It’s almost Bran’s name day!” Arya piped up, truthfully enough. “And mine after that! Right, Sansa?” she asked, looking for confirmation from her older sister. Ever since Sansa’s sixth nameday, Arya had been adamant that it must be her turn now, and Sansa had patiently explained to her the order in which their namedays fell. 

“Oh, well it doesn’t have to be your nameday to receive a present, my ladies,” Ser Tomar told them. “And King Robert is much too old to enjoy these little fellows as much as you do, so I don’t think he’d miss four.”

The man looked at Catelyn then as hopefully as the children did, and she sighed. “The animals belong to you, I take it?”

“They are my cousin’s, in truth, Lady Catelyn, but he won’t begrudge me four little ones when he has so many.”

“They don’t stay babies,” she admonished the children. “Goats can be terrible tempered, and they’ll eat everything. They’ll be your responsibilities--that mostly means the two of you, Robb and Sansa. Arya can hardly take care of a pet by herself, and Bran can’t at all. I will not be caring for goats.”

Robb and Sansa jumped up and down talking over top of each other promising to care for the baby goats. Sighing again, Catelyn said, “I shall speak to your lord father about it, but I promise you nothing.”

The children took that as victory and left off pestering her. They watched Ser Tomar put them back in with the nannies, and continued to watch them, fascinated, as they nursed. 

“Won’t they need a nanny to feed them for some time yet?” Catelyn asked the man.

“Well . . .yes. But I could get you one of those, too.”

“And we’d have to lead it all the way back to Winterfell.” She shook her head. “You are a great deal of trouble, Ser.”

He smiled at her. “I have no wish to ever cause you trouble, my lady. I only wish to make you smile.”

“By conspiring to give me five goats?”

“By doing anything you wish me to do for you.”

His voice was lowered then, and she did not like the look in his eyes at all. Just as she started to back away, he smiled again, and his face appeared merely kind and forthright once more. “I have discovered that your children’s happiness is what causes you to smile the brightest, Lady Stark. So I have only tried to make them happy. If you truly do not wish them to have the kids, I can tell them later that my cousin would not part with them. They will be disappointed, but not angry with you.”

She smiled at that. “As I told the children, I will speak with my lord husband on the subject. But now I fear we must all get back to the Red Keep lest we have no time to bathe and are forced to attend tonight’s dinner smelling like goats ourselves.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

The days in King’s Landing passed more quickly than Ned could have hoped, and he did find some of it enjoyable. After the day he’d spent riding with Robert and Jon, Catelyn had become rather more attached to him at the functions they attended jointly, and while he did not mind it in the least, it had puzzled him. When he’d questioned her, she’d said only that she hadn’t felt entirely comfortable out in the city with that knight from the Vale.

Of course, he’d been ready to call the man out immediately, but she’d assured him he had done nothing wrong and had, in fact, given the children a lovely day. She blamed her unease on the city itself and her desire to be back at Winterfell. He’d seen the man look at her and thought there was likely more to it, but he’d opted to let it go rather than to upset her, particularly as she seemed content to remain close by him.

His children had badgered him endlessly on the subject of the goats until he’d given his consent. Goats were useful, after all, and the older two at least could learn from having the responsibility. Even little Arya could do her part. And while, he’d never mention it to Catelyn, Jon would be excited with the new animals upon their return as well, and would no doubt participate in their care. He decreed that the goats were to remain where they were until it was time to depart for Winterfell, but he took it upon himself to take the children to see them on several more occasions, accompanied by Ser Tomar, but leaving Catelyn with her sister. The man never said an improper word while he was with him so he had no cause for complaint. He still didn’t like him.

Time spent with Robert had become more enjoyable as the days progressed and his old friend relaxed into the celebrations. At times, Ned feared he relaxed too much--eating and drinking far more than was healthy. He was somewhat larger than he had been during the Greyjoy Rebellion, but less muscled. Ned hoped he could get a hold of himself. He was uncomfortable around Robert’s Lannister wife as well. She seemed a bitter, angry person, forever dismissive of her husband, although to be fair, he was dismissive of her as well. Ned found himself very uneasy about the state of that marriage and thanked the gods for his good fortune in his own.

Yet, for all his worries about Robert, the time spent with just the two of them was generally good. Once he convinced Robert that he had no interest in joining him in whoring, the man finally stopped bringing it up. And although he expressed continued disbelief that a man could truly be satisfied with one woman, he seemed genuinely happy for the joy Ned had found with Catelyn and the children. They went riding or spent evenings speaking of times past. Ned preferred to speak of their days at the Eyrie, while Robert liked talk of their battles in the Rebellions, and both spoke with nostalgia of Lyanna. While Ned strongly suspected that his friend had never truly known Lya and would certainly not want to know many things, he still loved the man for caring about her after a decade had passed.

In truth, he loved the man. He knew a great deal of both good and bad about him, but there were far too many years between them for him not to feel the bond. And he knew Robert felt it, too. He had to hope that Jon was right, and that Robert could rule wisely if surrounded by the right people. Ned didn’t think much of most of the people who surrounded him, but Jon was worth ten of any of them, and he was steadfastly behind Robert. No, Ned would not miss King’s Landing at all when they left, but he would miss Robert as surely as he missed Benjen on the Wall, and Brandon and Lya in their tombs.

Any melancholy or worrisome thoughts were driven from his head when his wife entered his chamber.

“My gods, Cat! You look incredible! You will put every woman at this feast to shame, my love!”

She smiled at him, but then she wagged her finger at him. “Don’t you let the queen hear you say such a thing. Or my sister.”

“I cannot make it less true by not speaking it,” he said, pulling her to him. “You are always beautiful, my lady, but you truly do look stunning this night.”

She smiled up at him. “You look quite handsome, yourself, my lord. I’ve always loved you in that doublet.”

He snorted. He did look about as good as he could, he knew. The clothes were his best, and the Stark colors suited him well. Unlike the king, he had remained fit enough to look good in those clothes since the Greyjoy Rebellion. But he was not a particularly handsome man. He was plain of face and well he knew it. The way Catelyn looked at him never ceased to amaze him, but he knew no one in the Hall would spare him a glance this evening because they’d be staring at the woman on his arm. That realization struck him with equal parts pride and extreme unease. He liked that other men knew his wife was beautiful, but he did not particularly enjoy them looking at her as if she were an ornament displayed for their enjoyment.

“Stop scowling,” she said. “Arya and Bran are settled in the Tower of the Hand with little Robert. I don’t know that Lysa was happy about it, but I’d prefer them as far from all the revelry here as possible, and it will be good for Robert, I think. Jon is insisting she attends this night. Sansa and Robb are dressed and they look wonderful! They understand that they are only to stay for dinner and then they shall be escorted to the Tower of the Hand as well.”

He nodded. Of course, his wife had taken care of all arrangements involving the children. He never actually thought of such things, simply accepting that she had it well in hand.

“My lady,” he said, offering his arm to lead her into the corridor.

He was correct in that every head turned toward his wife as they passed. Her hair shone like spun copper, and while the style was far more elaborate than he preferred, it was beautiful. The pale skin of her shoulders and chest showed above the silver grey gown--rather too much skin, he thought, but the gown, which truly shone more silver than grey was tailored perfectly--accenting her still very full breasts as Bran was not yet entirely weaned and the slim waist she had regained already. She wasn’t happy with her stomach, he knew, but she looked positively tiny around the middle in this gown. The Tully blue stone that hung on a chain around her neck, falling just above the hollow between her breasts was matched by slightly smaller blue stones dangling from her ears, and all three were outshone by the dazzling blue of her eyes. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

As the evening wore on, it became ever more apparent that he was not alone in that. The women in the Hall eyed her with varying degrees of admiration and envy. Cersei Lannister, who was undoubtedly a strikingly beautiful woman herself, looked positively murderous when she beheld Catelyn, and Ned felt an absurd desire to protect her from the woman. The men looked at her with expressions of everything from awed appreciation to open lust, and he had a very difficult time not taking offense at the latter.

Robb and Sansa were perfectly behaved through the dinner although Robb did get a bit fidgety toward the end. Sansa simply looked around at everything as if it were magical, and actually protested more than her brother did when Catelyn kissed them both and had the maidservant take them out to their siblings for the night.

Robert was well and truly drunk by the time the dancing started, and Ned noticed he danced not a single dance with his queen. That was ill done however sour the woman was. He owed more respect to his own wife. Like every other man in the Hall, Robert wanted to dance with Catelyn, and Ned had no choice but to allow it although he decided he wouldn’t miss the king as much as he’d thought as he watched the man’s hands slip lower and lower down her back until they weren’t on her back at all.

Only her constant, reassuring glances in his direction kept him from throwing all courtesy and protocol to the wind and cutting in on the king, and he was at her side to reclaim her the second the dance ended.

She laughed as she slipped into his arms. “Have you discovered a love of dancing, my lord?” she teased him. “I cannot recall your dancing with me so many times in a night ever before.”

He scowled at her. “I grow tired of watching other men paw at you--whether they be kings or not.”

“Oh, Robert wasn’t too awful--for Robert. He obviously loves you, Ned. Otherwise, he’d likely have me in some corridor trying to push my skirts up by now.”

He held her more tightly. “What did he say to you?” he snarled.

“Nothing,” she said. “Truly, my love. I’m teasing you, and I shouldn’t. I won’t dance anymore.”

“You’ll dance with me.”

“You hate dancing.”

“I don’t hate holding you. And I’d have all these men see that it’s my right to do it. Not theirs.”

“You are impossible, you know.”

“Mmm.” He steered her toward the edge of the dance floor. “I think we shall go home the day after tomorrow.”

“So soon?” He didn’t miss that she sounded excited at the prospect.

“Tonight is the main nameday feast and tomorrow is the joust. We can leave after that without causing any offense. I’d rather not remain here another week, truth be told.”

“Nor I,” she said.

They smiled at each other as the song ended, and Ned released her. “I think that’s about all the dancing I can handle for the moment, my lady,” he said.

“What a pity,” said a voice from behind him, and Ned turned to see Ser Tomar standing there. “But surely, you won’t begrudge such a beautiful lady the opportunity to continue dancing.”

“I . . .” Catelyn started to say.

“I’ve scarcely laid eyes on you since the day we took the children to see their new kids, my lady,” the insufferable man said with perfect courtesy. “Surely, your lord husband can spare you for one dance.”

The horrid man had given his children the gift of the stupid goats, and neither Ned nor Catelyn could courteously turn down his request. 

“Of course I can, Ser Tomar, if my lady wishes to keep dancing.”

“Oh,” Catelyn said, clearly unhappy, but not so anyone but he would see. Her smile was lovely and her voice light. “I think I can manage one more, Ser Tomar, but then I fear I must sit down and rest.”

Ser Tomar laughed. “You speak as if you are as aged as good King Robert, Lady Catelyn!”

She smiled sweetly as Ned felt himself bristle. Thirty was hardly aged. He would be thirty in a matter of months. “Oh, but I nearly am, Ser. I’ll be thirty myself in just over a year.”

“I cannot believe that!” Ser Tomar exclaimed. “I thought surely Lord Stark had managed to find himself a very young wife for you certainly look much younger than that, my lady.”

She twisted her mouth at him. “I fear you are guilty of empty flattery, Ser. You told me Petyr had spoken of me to you in some detail, and he knows my age quite well.”

The music had been playing for a few moments now, and Ned realized his clever wife was shortening the length of her dance by keeping the man talking. Tomar must have realized it, too, for he suddenly extended his arms. “Shall we continue our conversation as we dance, my lady?”

Catelyn stepped forward and allowed the man to spin her out onto the floor, and Ned couldn’t hear whatever she said in response. Ned watched the two of them dancing and was forced to admit that, unlike Robert, the man held her very respectfully.

“Gods, man. You got a hell of a lot luckier than I did.”

Robert had come up to stand next to him, and he stared after Catelyn as the Vale knight danced with her. Ned gritted his teeth and did not tell him he hadn’t appreciated the way he’d groped at his wife. “The queen is very beautiful, Your Grace.”

“Knock it off with the ‘Your Grace’ shit, Ned. And Cersei may be beautiful, but she’s cold. There’s no pleasure in fucking a woman with a cunt made of ice.”

Ned grimaced, but Robert laughed at his own words. “Think of it! You’re the frozen lord of the icy North, and you get that warm, willing red haired beauty while I get a frozen, cold-hearted bitch. How in the hell did that happen?”

Ned sighed. “Robert, I don’t think you should . . .”

Robert shook his head. “No, I shouldn’t have. I never should have married her, whatever Jon said about it. Too late now, though.” When he looked at Ned then, he looked absolutely despondent rather than like a king celebrating his nameday. “It would have all been different had Lyanna lived. Everything would have been better. I would have been better.”

Robert turned away without saying anything else, likely in search of a drink or a woman other than Cersei Lannister, and Ned grieved for him. He thought Robert believed what he’d said, but Ned doubted those words were actually true, and it made him sad. _I need to go home,_ he thought. _And never return to this place._

He looked back out at the dance floor to find his wife and realized he didn’t see her anywhere. He didn’t see Ser Tomar either, and that concerned him. He began to make his way around the dance floor’s edge, looking both at the couples spinning around to the music, and into the various alcoves and corridors leading away from the floor.

He’d nearly gone all the way around and had begun to worry in earnest when he suddenly heard her voice.

“Ser! You forget yourself!”

“Oh, no, my lady. It’s you that forgets herself. Where you come from. What I know. I won’t be repeating it to anyone of consequence, but I’d think you’d be more grateful for that.”

Ned spun around and saw them behind him, a small way down a narrow corridor. The villain had his wife shoved against the wall and was holding her there. His head was bent down with his mouth entirely too close to her neck. 

Nearly blinded by rage, he raced down the corridor and reached them in a matter of seconds, grabbing him off her and holding him by the shoulders. 

“Ned!” she gasped, and only the plea in her eyes kept him from removing the man’s head from his shoulders where he stood. She would be mortified if he created a scene over her at Robert’s nameday feast.

“Are you all right?” he asked her in a tight voice.

“Yes. I’m unhurt, Ned. Truly.”

“We were simply having a conversation, my lord . . .” Tomar started to say, but Ned clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Go to my chambers, Catelyn. I will take care of him.”

“Ned, I . . .”

“I won’t kill him and I won’t cause a scene. Go. Please.”

She touched his arm briefly and nodded, and Ned watched her go back out toward the dance floor. He noticed her pulling one sleeve of her dress up on her arm which meant that the piece of filth he currently held had tried to pull it down. He clenched his jaw and swallowed. Then he began pulling the man in the opposite direction.

A little ways down the corridor, he found a doorway which opened into a small, empty room. He shoved Tomar inside, and closed the door behind him.

Once it was closed, he punched the man solidly in the face and watched him drop to the ground. “How dare you put your filthy hands upon my lady wife?” he growled.

“It’s not like I’m the first!” the man spit back nastily.

“I should kill you for even saying that,” Ned hissed between his teeth.

“It’s true,” the man protested. “Petyr talks about it all the time. How beautiful Catelyn Tully is. How soft her hair is. How warm her cunt is.”

Now, something exploded inside Ned, and he fell to his knees over the man and began pummeling his face and gut there on the ground. The man didn’t even shout. He only made weak, whimpering noises.

 _I won’t kill him,_ Ned heard himself saying to Catelyn, and he saw her eyes trusting him to keep his word. With a great effort of will, he stopped hitting the man.

“Petyr Baelish has said such things to you about my wife?” he demanded.

Tomar coughed and retched for several minutes. “He had her at Riverrun,” he finally gasped. “Before you ever knew her. He says he never had better and I . . .”

“You thought you would see if he spoke truly.” Ned spit on the man. “You are disgusting. And Baelish lied. My lady wife came to our marriage bed a maiden. You will never speak this filth again, and you will tell Baelish that if he ever speaks it again, I shall kill him. Do you understand?” His voice was low and cold.

“I . . . I . . .I’m not the only one he’s told, my lord. I don’t think he’s ly . .”

“What you think is not important!” Ned growled. _Oh gods! Littlefinger has said such things to others?_ Catelyn would die of shame to think that anyone spoke of her in such manner, and Ned wanted nothing more than to sail to Gulltown and beat Petyr Baelish slowly to death after first extracting the names of every man who had ever heard such a terrible lie so that he might silence them as well.

“You will leave King’s Landing on the morrow without speaking to anyone,” he said.

“The joust . . .”

“You will not be participating. You will be gone. Oh. And those goats you promised my children shall remain right where they are. I am leaving King’s Landing in two days’ time, and I expect them to be there when I come for them. Do you understand me?”

“I . . .”

“I am offering you your life, which is more than you deserve. Do as I have said, and I won’t kill you. Cross me in any way, speak one word against my lady wife’s honor, and I will tear you apart with my bare hands. Do you understand me?”

The man nodded. 

“Good. Now get out of my sight. And find some way out down this corridor. I won’t have you spoiling Robert’s feast by showing up back in the Hall looking like that.”

Ned watched then as the wretched man half crawled, half attempted to walk back out into the corridor. He knew there were stairs at the end of it that would lead him out. Once the man reached them, he turned himself to go back through the feast and find Catelyn in his chambers.

“Ned!” She flung herself at him as soon as he entered the room. “Are you all right? What did you do? I am so sorry, my love! I didn’t . . .”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he growled. Then he remembered he was speaking to his frightened wife rather than that piece of dung, and he forced his voice to soften. “Are you truly all right, Cat?”

He reached for her, but she grabbed his hands and looked carefully at his knuckles. “Ned . . .” she said slowly. “What did you . . .”

“I didn’t kill him,” he said shortly. “He is leaving King’s Landing in the morning. He won’t be jousting.”

“Oh.” She looked at him. “I don’t know what happened, Ned. We were dancing, and suddenly he pulled me away and he was grabbing at my sleeve and pushing me up against the wall. I . . .I didn’t understand it. He kept saying he wouldn’t tell anyone. But I don’t know what he was talking about! He talked about Petyr and . . .I never made any sense of it, Ned! I told him to stop, that he’d forgotten himself . . .I . . .”

He realized she was trembling and he pulled her into his arms, wanting to beat the man again for frightening her. “You are safe, Cat. You will never see him again.”

“But what was he talking about? Did he tell you?” She looked up at him then with those wide blue eyes that it pained him so badly to lie to. He’d only ever done it about one thing.

“I didn’t give him much chance to speak, my lady,” he said.

“He said nothing to you?”

Ned sighed. It would cause her no amount of pain to know what the man had said. To know what Baelish had said about her. She had once considered that man as a brother. Ned knew what it felt like to have someone you considered a brother do something terrible. “He . . .he said that you were in love with Petyr Baelish,” he said quickly. “That Baelish told him that.”

“Petyr thought that when we were young,” she said. “That’s why he challenged Brandon to that ridiculous duel. But why would he say such things now? And why would Tomar think he could . . .” She shivered again and clutched at him. “I couldn’t stand that man touching me, Ned!”

“He’ll never touch you again, Cat. No one will. I promise.”

He felt her slowly relax against him, her breath warm at his neck. After a few moments, she looked up at him again. “No one?” she asked, and her voice held an entirely new emotion.

“No one save me,” he said gruffly, and he put his mouth on hers. He didn’t mean to be rough. He wanted to comfort her. And he knew the things the man said about her were lies. He had never had reason to doubt his wife’s virtue. Yet, as he recalled that man holding her against the wall, Robert groping her as they danced, the thought of Littlefinger even speaking about touching her, and even his own brother fighting a duel to confirm his claim on her, Ned found himself needing to defend his own claim. Catelyn was his. Only his. And his arms tightened around her as the kiss deepened into an act of possession as much as love or comfort.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“Ned,” she murmured against his lips. He was almost hurting her with lips and with the grip he had on her, but she didn’t want him to stop. She needed him. She needed him to erase the terrible feeling of that man’s breath on her neck and his hands on her skin.

Her fingers found the fastenings of his doublet, and she began to work at them, nearly unable to breathe beneath the force of his kiss. His hands moved to her shoulders then, pushing the sleeves down. Her laces were still done up, and she thought the gown might tear, but she couldn’t make herself care. She kept at her own task until the doublet was undone and she could push it off him. As she pushed his arms from him enough to let the doublet fall from them, she did hear a slight ripping sound.

“Oh, gods, Cat, I’m sorry,” she heard him mumble, and he spun her around, his practiced hands going to the laces at the back of her dress. “I need you,” he whispered against the back of her neck. 

She couldn’t really think clearly at that point. She simply wanted him. She needed him. She was honestly unaware of how the rest of their clothes reached the floor. She only knew that she was naked in his arms and he picked her up and laid her on the bed. Then he stretched himself out above her and put his mouth to her neck, her breasts, her belly, and her sex. His hands roamed over her skin as he explored with his mouth as if he couldn’t possibly reach all of her body quickly enough. Her breaths came short and fast as she moved beneath him, grabbing at his back to pull him down against her.

“I need you,” he repeated, as if he’d lost all other words, and he raised up to look at her face with grey eyes dark from desire.

“You have me,” she said. “Always.” 

She put her hands on his hips and pulled him to her, feeling his arousal against her. He guided himself to her opening and pushed inside her, burying himself completely in one thrust. He began moving within her, thrusting forcefully with none of his usual restraint, and she urged him on, as desperate as he was to possess him and be possessed by him.

Her climax hit her powerfully, and she couldn’t hold back her cry as she felt herself tense around him. He responded by increasing his pace further and after several more thrusts, he reached his own release and she watched his face as she felt his seed inside her.

Neither of them could speak for some time. They lay there with him half atop her, panting for breath. After what seemed a long while, he rolled to the side and pulled her with him. 

“Cat . .” he choked out. “Forgive me. I . . .”

“You needed me,” she whispered. “And I needed you. There is nothing to forgive.”

He raised himself up on his elbow to look down at her then, and with his other hand slowly began to undo one of the braids which had not come loose during their lovemaking. “You are mine,” he whispered. “I cannot bear the thought of another man so much as thinking you might be his--not now, not in the future, not even in the past.” He swallowed. “And I have no right to treat you so. Forgive me.”

His words made her feel several things at once, and rather than try to sort that out, she simply replied. “I am yours. Entirely. Never doubt it, my love.”

He laid his forehead against her chest then. “You are more than I deserve.”

She bit her lip. To hear him speak like that filled her with joy. Her greatest wish was to know that he loved her. Only her. And he spoke as a man who needed her desperately. Yet, she couldn’t help but hear something else as well.

“Ned,” she said softly. “You say that you want me to be only yours. To always be only yours. Can you not understand then why I would want the same? I know you were not always mine, and I wish you were.” The last came out as little more than a whisper mixed with tears. It was the closest she had ever come to speaking of his bastard’s mother in all the years he had forbidden her to do so. “I want you to be mine,” she whispered, biting her lip harder to keep back the tears.

He raised up again and looked at her, and his face became distraught as he took in her tears.

“You did not hurt me, my lord,” she said quickly, thinking he misunderstood their cause.

He understood them, though. “Do not say that,” he said. He sat up then and pulled her to a sitting position. “I have hurt you. But I am yours, Cat. Entirely.”

She looked at him closely, and saw nothing but truth in his eyes. He looked back at her and she saw some conflict in his face, as if he had more to say, but then he closed his lips tightly. After a moment, he surprised her by getting off the bed and actually kneeling before her, as men did when they swore fealty to him. “I know well I have hurt you, and that I have wronged you. But I am entirely yours, Catelyn, and I swear to you that I shall allow no wrong to be done to you again--by myself or anyone else.”

She stared back at him, speechless. 

“My lady? Do you believe me?”

She nodded. “I believe you, my love,” she whispered horsely, and she reached out to pull him back into her arms where she wished to keep him forever.

Several weeks later, they were well north of Moat Cailin, and everyone was anxious to be home. They had stopped to rest the horses, and the children were playing with those silly goats, who had grown remarkably just in the weeks on the road. Ned’s eyes narrowed into a glare as they always did when he looked at the goats, and Catelyn laughed to herself over the children trying to figure out why their father hated their new pets.

She had tried to assure them he did not hate the goats, but she couldn’t very well explain precisely why the sight of the goats made their father scowl so she gave up trying. She leaned into her husband now, and he stopped glaring at the animals to smile down at her, and her heart soared. She loved the silly creatures. As terrible as the experience with that man had been, it had given her a gift far more valuable than goats. She may never hold all of Ned’s secrets, but she now knew with great certainty that she indeed held all of his heart.


End file.
